Not a Walk in the Woods
by robspace54
Summary: After their wedding, Louisa and Martin are taken by Bert to a honeymoon lodge. Just as things start to get cozy between bride and groom with a good fire, an open bottle of champagne, and some kissing, it becomes clear that the smoke is not going up the chimney, but rather into the room. Thus begins their honeymoon night trek in a tale of how things might have been.
1. Chapter 1

Not a Walk in the Woods

By Robspace54

 **The characters, places and situations of** _ **Doc Martin,**_ **are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

 _The Series 6, Episode 1 title is "Sickness and Health" in which Martin and Louisa finally marry. After their wedding, Louisa and Martin are taken by Bert to a honeymoon lodge. Just as things start to get cozy between bride and groom with a good fire, an open bottle of champagne, and some kissing, it becomes clear that the smoke is not going up the chimney, but rather flowing **into** the room. Thus begins their honeymoon night trek; a tale of how things might have been._

Chapter 1 – Damned Damper

"Martin? What are you doing?" She watched as Martin, her husband of all of three hours, barged past her and back into the smoke-filled 'honeymoon lodge.' She heard him coughing inside and she became more upset for his safety. "Mar-tin?!" She knew he was headstrong but his actions were more than just impulsive, but also reckless. "Martin?" she called again. God, she thought, what if he collapses in there?

Before she could move back towards the door, inside of which an inky blackness billowed, he emerged coughing. "Here," he said, giving her her wedding shoes. "Put these on. Are you okay?"

"Why? I'll live."

"We can't stay here! The place is awash with bronchial irritants! It has to air out! And we need to find a phone and call Bert! And go home!"

She reached to his face in an attempt to wipe some of the soot from his forehead.

"What?" he said.

She sighed, for she had only made his face dirtier. Poor Martin. He was so proper about his appearance. If she told him he was smeared in soot he probably rush back inside to take a shower. "You're fine," she said.

Louisa saw he was carrying a large torch. "Come on," he waved as he pranced down the stairs and away from the lodge.

Louisa hugged herself for there was a chill in the air. "Mar-tin? What are you proposing?"

"Louisa, we _can't_ stay. We must find a phone!"

She looked around the small valley where the lodge was nestled. "It's getting foggy! And dark! Can't we stay here?"

"No," he snapped, but not unkindly. "Yes, it is getting dark, I can see that. So, the faster we move on, all the better. Come on!" He waved to her once more.

"Really? Not exactly dressed for a hike, am I?" she told him pointedly.

He shook his head. Come on Louisa, don't be a boat anchor, he thought. "Look. There's a path. All we have to do is follow it. Home free." He held out his hand. "Quick as you can."

She sighed. Martin you can be so… so… such a cave man. "Fine." But a true cave man would have known to open the damper, and if he'd not, at least not use ALL the champagne to put out the flames. So, giving in, she wiggled her feet back into her shoes.

They had built up heels to make her two inches taller, to counter some of his 6 foot - three-inch height.

Plus, as the wedding gown saleswoman had emphasized, "They will shorten your gait, luv, and make your hips swivel more when you walk. As well as your shoulders. And in this dress with the long skirt," she'd run her hands over the dress, "you'll look all the _sexier_. Not that you aren't already, my dear. A nice long and lean one, you are."

Louisa had nodded at her praise. Sexier? Now as she jammed her feet back into the cream shoes to follow Martin on a ramble in the woods, she regretted having taken the advice, although the praise had been nice. "Martin!" she yelled. "Wait a minute, _would_ you? MAR-TIN!"

Martin had gone to the path, and turned when she nearly screamed at him. He nearly shouted back. Hold on Martin, he thought. She's your wife, and _not_ one of the village's _idiotic_ time-wasters. "Yes."

Louisa caught up to him and she looked down the tunnel-like path, roofed by tree limbs and edged with thick bracken along the sides. The path curved ahead, so it was dark and gloomy down that way. "Really?"

Martin held out his elbow. "Walk with me."

She shook her head and looked back towards the lodge. Smoke still drifted from the open door. She turned to face Martin, flashing on what she had hoped to do with him back there. Bollix! "Yes, fine," she said, and linking her arm with his they set out.

As they moved along the fog got thicker, night was drawing close, and she began to shiver. She looked up his dirty face, his jaw set with determination. Oh, Martin I _do_ love you. But if you'd _only_ opened that damned fireplace damper!

Martin tried to shorten his strides to match hers, but he surmised that her ridiculous shoes were not helping. He sighed to himself. _Damned_ damper, he cursed mentally. Stupid Bert!

 **Author's Note:**

" **A Walk in the Woods" may mean a waste of time; in other words when a hunter takes 'a walk in the woods' they have come back empty-handed.**

 **By the same token 'a walk in the woods' may imply that something is easy and not difficult at all.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Trees

Good show, Martin, you insisted that we leave the path and now there are trees all around, and no path, and not a _bloody_ road in sight, Louisa thought bitterly. She bit the mental words off, finally asking, "And you thought you heard a car? Really?"

Martin turned, flashing the electric torch across her face, which he quickly lowered when she covered her eyes. "I thought I had."

She leaned against a rough barked larch tree, or she thought it was a larch; too dark to really know. "So, now what? What do we do know, Mar-tin? Hm?"

He turned in a complete circle flashing the torch before him. "Shall we try to find the path again?"

"That didn't work the other two times, now did it?" she asked angrily.

"Louisa we have to _try_."

"So we just wander about until we die of exposure, that it?" She raised her hands. "Sorry, sorry. I'm cold, and damp, my shoes are ruined, and just _look_ at my dress."

Martin played the light across her once pristine white gown. "Oh Lord, your dress. It's ruined."

She shook her head. "Well, I was only gonna wear it once anyway." She embraced herself, rubbing her arms.

Martin looked at her in sorrow. He truly was sorry that they were stuck out here. "That stupid Bert! Abandoning us in this God-forsaken place."

Louisa did not contradict Martin, but staying at the lodge would have been better, if not more smoky. "I think we ought to try to find the path again."

Martin looked around. "We had been going in a straight line. So we just back track…" He waved the torch around but the feeble glow was easily defeated by darkness and fog. He couldn't locate where they had come from in the fog, which grew thicker as he watched. Bollocks.

Louisa shook her head. "Well if we've been going in a straight line then why is this tree familiar? Hm?" She pointed to the one she was leaning on. "Or that one?" she pointed across the small clearing.

Martin whipped his head around. She was right. "Yes, this area does look familiar. But a lot of trees in a wood do look the same… in the dark," he sighed.

"You were never a Boy Scout, were you?"

"Uhm no."

And dissecting frogs at age four as well as growing up in the city hasn't prepared you for any of this, has it, she almost said aloud. Recriminations would not be useful at this point. "I thought moss grew on the north side of trees?" she said, "But all these trees have moss going right-around – each and every one." So much for that bit of lore.

"Must be due to the damp environment," he answered. He lifted a shoe slightly. "This mucky area must keep it very damp."

Louisa rolled her eyes. "Martin, now is _not_ the time for an _ecological_ verdict."

He stared at her for a few seconds, realizing that she was growing angrier. Well who wouldn't be angry? He was less than delighted himself. "Louisa… I'm sorry about…" he waved a hand, "all this."

"Yeah," she sighed and walked to him, taking his arm. "A fine mess."

He looked deeply at her smudged makeup, but still-bright eyes. He'd so wanted things to be _right_ tonight. He'd even made a joke. "So…"

"I think we should try to find the path – again."

"Right, yes, good."

"Then we get a phone and call for help."

"So… which way shall we go?"

Louisa took the torch from him, and tried to locate where they had come from. Just past the tree she'd put her bum against, there were muddy footprints and crushed plant stems. "Over there, I think." She pointed with the light beam.

Martin nodded. "Lead on, unless you want me to."

"No, I'm good. Come on then."

Martin meekly followed, a few steps behind his bride. "Not quite the wedding night you imagined, I suppose."

She turned and gave him a brilliant smile. "I was planning on seducing you."

He cleared his throat nervously, but checked his watch. "It's past ten." Had they been blundering about for nearly three hours? Perhaps they ought to have stayed at the reception. Louisa probably would have enjoyed the cake – filled with fats and sugars, but God he was tired of stupid villagers asking him for medical advice; my knee, my aching head, my gout, my bowels. Idiots!

Louisa sighed. A helluva wedding night! "Come on then. The sooner we get home, the sooner…" Her breath stopped in her throat, for she thought she had heard a faint voice. "Martin? Hear that?"

Martin stopped walking and listened. There _was_ a sound; over there to on his right. "Someone."

"Shhhh! Listen." Louisa thought it was a woman. Crying, almost screeching. She turned her head, trying to locate it.

"Fog can muffle sounds; make them seem to come from all directions," Martin said.

"Shush!" Louisa tucked the torch between arm and side so she could cup both her ears. She slowly turned her head, scanning for the voice. She heard it again, and it _was_ a woman, or a girl, and she was crying. "Over there!" she pointed, and taking torch in hand led them towards the voice.

 **Author's note: I apologize for letting this story go fallow for so long, but I realized that one story at a time was more than sufficient for this author. Thank you for waiting so patiently.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Voice

Louisa led Martin onward, and with each step the voice became louder and clearer; and apparently more desperate. She urged him to hurry, which he did, as much as the boggy terrain permitted. After twenty minutes or so, after he'd blundered into a waist-deep sink hole, out of which Louisa had to haul him out, they came upon the source.

Out of the foggy gloom a shabby hovel appeared at the very edge of the wood. Martin guessed that it had once been plastered and white washed. Now it was bedraggled with bare patches exposing an ancient wooden structure. A rusted downspout dangled from the edge of the tattered roof, and damp patches on plaster showed it had been spraying water from numerous leaks for a very long time. A dim light glowed through a half-shuttered window, under a roof patched with a rumpled blue tarp. There was an ancient barn just visible in the fog, and the smell of pig was thick from that quarter.

The crying they had been following had been near constant, and was apparently coming from around the front of the house, such as it was.

Louisa went tearing around the corner to what must have been the front of the place and there they found the source of the screeching.

"Martin?" Louisa said, as she pulled up in a hurry. A female form was kneeling on a tilted porch, and the dark-haired woman was now screeching out unintelligible sounds of utter anguish. "Hello?" Louisa said tentatively, as she approached her and knelt beside the woman. "We heard you calling out?"

A tear-streaked and exhausted face lifted from the concrete to peer up at her. "Oh yeah, hurts sumthin' awful," the woman said in a thick Cornish accent.

Martin crouched down. "I am a doctor. What is the matter?" He got further down to look at her and observed she was very fat, especially in the abdominal area, as well as in great distress.

Louisa immediately revised her guess of the woman's age vastly downward, for it _was_ a _young_ woman - a teenager really - who was in trouble. The girl sat upright, and they immediately saw a huge pregnant belly under the flowered print she was wearing. "Are you in labor?" Louisa asked softly.

"Wha? Oh _God_ ," Martin blurted out. Heavens! A woman far advanced in labor! He ground his teeth. They ought to have stayed in Portwenn.

"Yeah, yeah, I must be," the girl moaned, then she began to grunt and strain. "Oh, my word… this hurts a _hellavu_ lot." She knelt over, put her hands on the porch pavers and began to strain.

Louisa looked at her husband for direction. "Mar-tin?"

Martin twisted his head upside down so he could see her face. "You have an urge to push? Have your waters broken?"

"Unghh, yeah. Gotta… push. Hours ago," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hours ago, what?" he asked.

"Waterrrrs…" the girl managed to grunt.

Martin dug two fingers into her neck. "Pulse is racing. Are you sure you are in labor?"

"Bloody hell, _yes_!" the girl screamed at him. "Oh, _make_ it stop, make it _stop_! Please? You _are_ a doctor? Really?"

"Try panting," he told the girl. "Really, I _am_ a doctor. Louisa, we have to move her inside. Let's stand her up."

The girl tried to push their hands away when they lifted her, but she stopped struggling when the labor contraction stopped.

"I'm Louisa, and this is Martin," Louisa told the girl. "Let's get you inside, shall we?"

The child took enough notice to actually look at them. "Why are you dressed for a fancy-dress party?"

"No, this is our wedding night… and we got lost…" Louisa began to tell her.

"Enough!" Martin hissed. "Into the house! Now!"

The girl managed to get her feet under her as they lifted her, which was a huge help. The door of the hovel creaked open to reveal a not unorganized home. Fairly clean but old furnishings showed that someone at least cared for the interior. It smelled of cat though, which made Louisa sneeze.

"Bedroom?" Martin asked.

"In there," the girl pointed.

They maneuvered her to the door indicated down a short hall past a loo which showed plenty of fluid on the floor.

"Made a mess in there," the girl muttered. "Where my, uhm, waters went."

"Now, don't you worry," Louisa told her.

The girl's bedroom was dark, but Martin found a switch on the wall which turned on a lamp. A bed with rumpled sheets was exposed, along with a unicorn poster on the wall. An ancient wardrobe spilled out clothing like a volcano in a trail across the floor. A tabby cat streaked out from the under the bed just as they got the girl to it.

"Ah!" Louisa screamed as the furry creature ran over her foot. "A cat!"

"My cat. Runsie," the girl told them. "Cause, she runs a lot."

Martin settled the girl on the bed. "Phone?"

"No," the girl muttered then her face screwed up in pain. "Here come another one!"

Louisa propped the pillows on the bed behind the girl who has half sitting, pulling her knees up.

Martin knew the signs. He took out his mobile and examined the screen. "No bars, of _course_ ," he muttered. He put it away. "What's your due date?" he asked.

"Today, I reckon," the girl said.

Martin got Louisa's attention. "I'll see what I can find."

Louisa nodded, as she tended to the girl. Poor dear, she thought. All alone. "You here by yourself?" She found a box of tissues and taking one, wiped the girl's tear-streaked face. She had such pretty brown eyes.

"No… me gran went some time back. Took the car. Groceries and stuff."

"And when do you think she'll be back?"

"Uhm, oughta been home long time ago."

Louisa felt her teeth automatically bite her lip. "My name's Louisa," she told the girl. "What's yours?"

"Angela."

"Angela, that is a _lovely_ name."

"That's what Billy says too." Angela looked at Louisa more closely. "Why you wearin' a wedding gown 'xactly?"

"Oh," Louisa sighed, "it's a long story. Who is Billy?"

"My fella. He's in the Navy. At sea, somewhere."

Louisa rubbed the Angela's arm when another pain started. "You must be about eighteen, I'm thinking."

"Yep. Last birthday," the girl grunted.

Louisa felt her teeth clench at the injustice of life; well, some lives. She looked around the room. At least this girl had a home and a gran, and a fella – who was away. She heard water running and then Martin came back with a filled basin, a jug of water, towels, and other things.

"There's hot water and soap in the loo," he told Louisa. He stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and thoroughly soaped his hands and arms after setting the basin on the night table. He rinsed his arms with water from the jug, then dried his arms and turned to the girl. "Right, now… uhm… Miss."

"Angela," Louisa said.

"Yes, Angela. Now I'll examine you, may I?"

"You _are_ a doctor?" Angela looked up at him dumbly. "Will it hurt?"

Martin stared at her. Obviously, she'd had no prenatal care at all - never had a pelvic exam in her life. Still the girl seemed to look healthy, which was all to the good. "No." Martin got her underthings off, which were soaked, and then did a quick examination. "Ah."

Louisa started. "Martin?"

"Head down, thank God, and engaged. Now go wash up, I _will_ need your help."

Louisa started to walk away but the girl became scared and began to whine. "I'll be right back," Louisa told her in her most soothing teacher's voice. "Martin, my husband, is a very good doctor and he has delivered babies before."

Martin glowered at his bride. "Yes." Exactly _one_ , he thought; Louisa's friend on Lobber's Point, but after that incident he had read quite a lot about the birth process, especially under primitive conditions. And then there was James Henry… not that he had been involved in his actual delivery.

Just then he heard a fox bark, far away.

Martin shuddered. Good lord he hated rural places! But then he looked at Louisa who'd come back with a damp cloth and was gently wiping the girl's face. Well, perhaps all things rural were not that bad, he thought. He took a deep breath and started to adjust the girl's posture on the bed. "Now, we have to make you as comfortable as we can…"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Making

The labor didn't seem to progress much, each contraction being about every six minutes. Martin kept frowning at his watch every fifteen minutes and fidgeting. Typical man, Louisa thought, impatient for Mother Nature to do her thing. So, during a lull between Angela's contractions, she took him aside. "Martin? Don't be anxious."

He looked at her with a worried look. "Louisa," he whispered, "this labor was going on for quite some time before we found her. Near as I can tell she's not progressing, much." He pulled me towards the door. "And without a monitor or fetal stethoscope I have no way to know how the baby is faring. When she'd bearing down, does the baby's heart rate go way down, and stay there? That…" his eyes darted to the girl on the bed, "would be less than… optimum."

"Can you make one?"

"What?" he hissed.

"Isn't it just a tube? I've seen pictures of ones from the old days. It's like an old-fashioned speaking trumpet – a long cone."

He blinked rapidly at me. "Yes."

"There must be something you can use. Now go one, find something." I saw that Angela was taking another giant breath about to bear down. "I'd better…"

"Right."

As Louisa knelt by the girl and took her hand, Martin left the room, and then she heard the clatter of things in the kitchen.

"What's goin' on?" Angela hissed through gritted teeth when she heard the noise.

"Martin's just… don't you worry." She smiled at the girl. "Now, let's get this baby here, shall we?"

"What time is it?" Angela asked when her contraction stopped.

"Just past midnight."

"Oh, hm. Somebody's birthday."

"Do you know if it's a girl or a boy?"

"Now how would I know that?"

Louisa smiled but shook inside. "Angela, the doctor could do a test. Have you seen a doctor? At all? You did, didn't you?"

"No, why should I?" the girl asked.

"Not once?"

"Oh, lor', not for a long time. I was little. Why?"

After an especially loud bang from the other room, Louisa stood. "Oh, nothing," Louisa told her. "Let me dampen this cloth to wipe your face. Back in a jiff."

Martin had opened every cabinet and drawer, and he'd found a baster. No tubing, of course, now… where else to look? He was about to go look in the barn, when he spied a cabinet in the corner, the door hidden behind a pile of broom handles and bolts of cloth. Opening that door, he found gardening supplies, dry goods, a watering can, and a plastic funnel. Ah! He grabbed the funnel and in near glee threw the door closed, making a loud bang.

Martin put the baster and the funnel on the kitchen counter and was staring at the items. "Right," he exclaimed. "Now if I had…" He opened a cluttered drawer and found a roll of cello tape, yellow with age but it may do. He grabbed a serrated breadknife out of a rack and began to saw away at the small end of the plastic funnel.

"Mar-tin! Quiet!" Louisa told him, when she walked into the kitchen. "Can't you… what you got there?"

He severed the bit of funnel then pried the baster bulb off the tube. "Here, hold these," he instructed his wife. "Keep the small end of the funnel aligned with the large end of the baster."

While Louisa held the baster and funnel together, Martin strapped the join with many turns of tape. After twenty wraps or so, he stopped. "Good," he told her. "Primitive."

"Might work," Louisa told him.

Martin held the thing, looking for all the world like a bad imitation of a speaking trumpet. "All I need now is a stone knife," he muttered.

"What?"

"Joke." He sighed. "What she really needs is a Pitocin drip to get things going."

Louisa looked into a cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey. "Alcohol?"

"That will only slow things down."

Louisa rubbed her arms, for the room was cold. "Just sitting back there I'm getting cold. I need to move around."

Martin stared at her, his head went down, and after a few seconds his head snapped up. "Brilliant! Louisa, you are a _genius_!" He kissed her on the cheek then went marching back to his patient.

Louisa ran after him, wondering what she had said. Oh, the kiss was nice, but…

She found Martin on his knees next to Angela, and he was pressing the funnel to her abdomen, the small end of the baster to his ear and his free ear plugged with his finger. When she opened her mouth to comment Martin's eyes darted her way, and mouthed 'shush.'

After a minute, he stood. "Right, now Audrey…"

"Angela," prompted Louisa and the girl as one.

He cleared his throat. " _Yes_ … now, your baby's heart is going just fine, but they want to come out, and the sooner the better. So, we're going to help, uhm her, him, _it_. Louisa, help me stand her up."

"Why? No?" the girl protested. "I can't get up!"

"We're going to walk you," Martin told her. "Get things moving, uhm… in the … right direction."

"But…" Angela began to cry. "NO! You're being mean! I don't like you!"

Martin took her hand and arm. "I know that you are scared, and in pain, but you _must_ do this," he told her gently. "You want to hold your baby, yes?"

"Yeah."

Martin sighed. It was so much easier when the patient was unconscious under anesthesia. "And we all want it to be perfectly healthy, so, come on then. Louisa help me."

They got Angela to her feet. "Now," Martin said, "let's walk, around and around the room."

"And when a contraction comes?" Louisa asked.

Martin nodded to the straight-backed chair he'd moved out of the corner. "She stands and hold onto that, bending over, if need be, until the contraction stops. Then we walk her some more."

Angela thought they were both mad – bodmin, the both of them – but she was in their hands. Billy was far away, gran was still missing, and she was with these strangers on their wedding night. Fine, she thought. Bloody fine! But they were taking care of her, and she did feel safe with them, as they held her upright. "Okay. Let's do this," she told them. Gotta get make this baby come out! Been in there long enough!

Louisa gave Martin a big smile. "Come on then, Angela. Let's go for a hike. " She mouthed a 'well done' to her husband. "Short and easy steps, right?"

Martin rolled his eyes in reply. "Now, go slow at first; just let us help you," he addressed the girl, "and when you feel a pain start, take the back of the chair. And we won't let you fall."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Arrival

Louisa felt the girl's strength, such as it was, fading as she strained with each successive contraction. Each space between got shorter and shorter and now down to two minutes or less. She found herself wincing in sympathy as the baby tried to come but did not. Finally, when Angela was sitting down, she drew Martin aside. "She's exhausted."

Martin looked at her and brushed a strand of hair from his wife's forehead. "And so are you."

Louisa brushed his hand away. "We have to do something… to make her more…"

"Yes, revitalized?" He turned to the girl who sat in a bedraggled lump on the wooden chair they had been pacing her around. "Uhm, Angel… er, when's the last time you ate?"

Angela screwed up her face. "This morning, I guess. Tea and a piece of bread with jam."

"No protein," Martin muttered. "Have you been eating well? What did you consume yesterday?"

"Oh lor yes. Eggs in the morning, cheese and tomato sandwich at lunch, bangers and mash for supper. Like I couldn't get enough into me."

Martin sighed through his nose. "In hospital I'd stick an IV in for fluids." He stared at Louisa. "Put the kettle on. Tea."

"Tea?" Louisa asked.

"Tea. Strong; lots of sugar."

"For her? I didn't think it wise to eat during labor."

"She's running on adrenaline and not much else. Low blood sugar no doubt." Martin nodded and then looked at Louisa. "And us as well." While Louisa brewed up tea he tended the girl alone for the next twenty minutes. He found himself feeling actual sympathy for his patient. Alone and scared, having had no medical care for her pregnancy, and now being tended by two strangers at a critical time of her life she must feel very alone. "You're doing well," he said to her. The girl was perched on the chair and she looked shattered.

"Am I?" she asked plaintively.

He nodded at her and forced a grim smile. "You are doing quite well," he did not voice the word amazingly. Perhaps she was of sterner stuff. "You are Cornish."

"Oh, ya. Forever. Me and mine…" she grimaced when a twinge started. "My people were here when the Romans came for the tin." Her face got a serious look. "Arggg," she hissed.

"Pant," he told her, as he examined her vulva. When she quit bearing down he waited a few seconds than washed his hands quickly, finding her completed dilated for the head was completely engaged. "Your baby is very close to being born."

"Thank God," she moaned, and then she leaned forward and rested her head against Martin's. "Thanks for the…"

Martin felt himself automatically start to recoil, but he stopped when he saw the sincerity on her drawn face. "I'm a doctor - my job."

Angela drew a breath. "Ruined your wedding day and all."

Martin nodded. "Circumstances have not played out as Louisa might have hoped."

"I'm gonna marry," she stated. "Someday. Your missus is beautiful."

"Thank you."

Louisa returned with three mugs of steaming tea. She gave him a yellow one with a smiley face on it; she took one with rainbows, and held a plain one out to Angela who sipped at it greedily.

"That's good. I was thirsty," Angela sighed.

"Slowly," Martin told her. "Sip."

She gave him a little smile. "Sure."

Martin looked at his watch, for he had ben timing contractions. He took the mug from Angela and waited. Right on schedule the next one began.

"Oohhh, uuuhhhgggg," Angela moaned for she felt another one coming. "Doc! Oh Doc! Help!" My God this baby is big, she thought, and it was going to tear her apart. Billy was a big man so stands to reason… his baby would be too. "DOC!" she screamed.

Louisa helped Martin get Angela to her feet, where she could hold the chair's back. They both saw her knuckles go white as she strained.

"I'd _no_ idea…" she moaned, "It would HURT this much!"

Louisa patted her back. "I know. It does."

"You… you had… a baby?" Angela gasped.

Louisa replied, "Yes, I - me and Martin - have a son. He's fifteen months old."

"And…" Angela stopped for a breath then bore down, trying to aim the baby in the right direction. "You _just_ … got married _now_?"

Martin cleared his throat. "Yes."

Angela barked out a laugh. "HA! Well, that's really… really… oooooohhhhhh, uuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhh, aiiiiiiiiii!" She felt like the entire world went away, but for the bright hot white core of agony which was inside her, and even that faded into darkness. Dimly she heard Louisa call out, " _Mar-tin_!" and then the floor came up and whacked her in the side.

Martin tried to catch her, but missed most of her, for she was a dead weight. She crumpled in a sorry tangle onto her left side, arms and leg slack, head bobbing on a loose neck, which he managed to cushion just before it touched the wood floor.

Without a word, Louisa helped Martin roll the girl into a better position, with a pillow under her head.

"Fainted," Martin grunted after taking her pulse and peering into eyes which were disconnected from the brain behind them.

"Obviously," Louisa replied.

Martin crouched over the girl. She was even younger than he imagined as he looked at her face close-up. Seventeen? Not more than eighteen, he guessed, for he hadn't asked. _Children_ having _children_. "She's coming around," he said when he saw her eyelids flutter. "You fainted," he told her when her face showed awareness.

"Uhm. Ya." Angela ran her tongue over her teeth. "Baby?"

Martin used his homemade stethoscope. "Fine. Rapid, but fine," he lied for the child's pulse had varied from rapid to slow, and slower than it ought to be. This baby had to come out now! He took the girl's pulse, which was coming back to normal rhythm. He took a quick peek at her crotch where the baby's cranium was clearly bulging. "Now, Angie..."

"Angela," prompted Louisa.

"Sorry, yes, Angela, let's get you on your back, shall we? Louisa, get that coverlet off the bed. Lay it out here next to her. Pillows as well. Quickly, now."

Louisa dragged the cover to the floor. "Now what?"

Martin looked at his wife. Helluva wedding night; instead she playing midwife to a teenager. "Louisa, I need you to sit there," he pointed. "Your back against the side of the bed. Pillows behind you, and then this girl will lean back against you. Not like that, Louisa, uhm… spread your knees, and have the girl put her back, uhm, she will be between them… and she will lean against you." He put a clean towel on the coverlet in about the right spot and put another off to the side for the delivery.

Louisa shook her head. Really? Sit with the girl between my legs? She stared at Martin, for he _must_ be joking. No, he never joked; nearly never. So hiking up her wedding dress, she sat as instructed, taking the trembling girl between her legs. "It'll be fine," she whispered in her ear.

Then Louisa stared at Martin. "And what about my arms?"

Martin took the girl's bare feet and pulled them wide apart. "Put them around her, yes on her…"

"Belly?"

"Yes, abdomen." He placed Louisa's hands just so and then he looked intently at his patient who now looked very scared. "Right. When a contraction starts, Angela, you will take a deep breath and bear down, and then Louisa you will press on her belly firmly, not too hard, and aid the uhm, delivery."

Martin positioned himself on his knees, and pushed the girl's legs further apart. He saw the very crown of the head began to move downward as the girl moaned under a contraction. "Now! PUSH! PUSH! _PUSH_!" He watched as the head moved down, bulging the tissues, and then a wet and very pink bald head began to emerge. He took a breath, gently took the cranium in his fingers, guiding it downward. "Good, push, push… small breath, and not so hard, Louisa."

Louisa felt connected to the entire process, her brain and body remembering when James Henry was born in the Coach and Four. Not the loveliest of places for a birth, but Martin had been by her side . She saw the determined professional look on his face as he performed his medical duty. He was a good man, is my Martin, she knew. He always was and he always would be. And so, she helped Angela bring new life into Cornwall.

Angela felt the baby shift and go down and was reward by a feeling like she could breathe.

"Head is delivered," Martin announced. He snagged a tiny shoulder with a hooked finger. "That was the first shoulder," he announced. "Nearly… there. Now - a slow breath," he instructed, "and do NOT push."

"I HAVE TO!" Angela shouted.

"Pant, pant," he told her, for he did not want her to suffer a birth injury. With a gentle turn the second shoulder came free, and then he guided the wet child from it's mother. It was face down so he turned it to the side. The infant lay floppy in his hands for a moment but with a convulsive heave the tiny chest moved and a tiny cry came out.

"Martin?" Louisa asked.

He examined the child, who was mewling but breathing, making tiny 'whaaa' sounds. Ten fingers and toes, normal facial features, no anomalous skin folds at the neck, and no birth injuries to the infant. Good. He lifted the baby onto the mother's chest. "It's a girl."

Just then there was a motor sound outside, the front door banged open and they heard a young man's voice calling out, "Angela?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Special

Louisa looked up from the marvelous little girl who'd just entered the world, just as a tall and broad-shouldered young man burst into the room.

"Angela! Oh my God!" the man shouted. "The baby's come!"

Martin still knelt between the girl's legs, preparing to cut the umbilical cord. "Quiet!" he said sternly. "No shouting." He stretched out his arm, lifted a towel off a small table, two lengths of twine, and pair of scissors.

The young man fell to his knees and started blubbering, while Angela put a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Billy," she said softly. "Look, lookie! We made a baby girl!"

"You're the father?" Louisa said flatly. "Well then, greet your child and her mother. Who are you?"

The young boy, who looked to Louisa perhaps not quite twenty years of age, lifted his head, and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Sorry. Yes, mum. Yes, I'm Billy Cable, and Angela is… my girl." He smiled down at the Angela. "Oh Angie, so sorry, I been away for so, uhm, too long." He gazed at the child on Angela's chest. "A little girl – it's a girl." Then he looked at Louisa. What in the Hell was this woman and man doing here? he wondered. He took them in; she in wedding a gown and he in a suit - both were mucky and mussed. "And just who are you two?"

Angela cleared her throat. "Helping me you silly, now…" the girl sniffled. "I'm… I'm... fine, and this here is our little baby. She needs a name. Now give us a kiss."

Billy kissed her cheek. "I guess now we have to be all grown up," he muttered, but kissed Angela again. "I love you so much."

Martin cleared his throat. "Now, if you two DON'T mind? Hold the romance for later, would you? Gawd." He still held the scissors in his hand. "We have to cut the cord." He leaned forward, and after giving Billy a stern look, only then did the boy scoot backwards a little. Martin held the umbilical cord between thumb and finger and by squeezing, pushed excess blood ahead of his fingers towards the child, who had stopped crying. "Now… ahem, are you going to cut the cord?"

Billy turned pale. "Me?"

Properly assessing his reluctant assistant, Martin told him, "You may help." Martin flipped the baby onto her back, then tied one length of twine around the cord three centimeters from the baby's belly. The other string he tied a centimeter closer to the child. He stared at the boy who had gone quite white. "Don't you faint."

"No… try not to," the boy said, but he felt his skin gone all cold and saliva was filling his mouth. "A baby, oh, we made a baby."

Louisa harrumphed, "One of the parts of being an adult, Billy." She looked at Martin, who gave her in return one of his silent messages with a look. She interpreted it as him saying 'these two children have made a baby and God help all three of them.' "You can learn, oh, how to take care of her," Louisa told the boy gently. "You're not the first couple to make a baby."

Angela giggled, "Gosh no."

Martin jostled the new father as he placed the blades of the scissors on the cord between the twine tie. "Put your hands over mine, and don't touch the baby, not until you have washed your hands."

"Right," the boy answered.

"Now, with me, squeeze the handles," Martin instructed. The scissors were not that sharp, and the tissue was very elastic, but inside a minute, the cord was cut. "Let go," Martin said.

Billy rocked back on his heels. "Who are you again?"

Martin rapidly washed his hands in the basin he'd brought in before, then with a clean towel he swaddled the newborn in it and then gave the baby to the new mother. "Your daughter, uhm, Angela."

Angela beamed as she took her daughter in her arms. "Oh, she's _so_ beautiful. I think we'll call her Linda." She stared at Billy for a moment. "You don't mind?"

"That's grand, Angie," the boy said. "I like the name."

"Martin," Louisa announced, "is my husband, and I'm Louisa and I think that Linda is a _wonderful_ name for _such_ a pretty baby."

Martin wrinkled his nose. Babies didn't seem that pretty to him for their bodies were dysmorphic compared to adult people, such as large heads, short arms and legs, and pudgy features. But there was no accounting for the hormones of pregnancy and early adulthood which forced bonding between parents and infant. "Uhm, right," he grunted and was rewarded with a glowing smile from his wife.

"Louisa and Martin helped ever so much," Angela replied as she cuddled the baby. "Linda, Linda, oh, Linda you're gonna love bein' in the world," she cooed. "And we love you so much."

Billy started to shake his head. "Now what do we know about bein' parents?" he grunted.

"It does not come naturally, no," Martin replied. "But you must feed her, change her, keep her clean, warm, and safe."

"And show her that you love her," added Louisa.

"Yes," Martin added. "I was about to say that."

Louisa smiled at Martin. No, you weren't, she thought. "But you can learn about being a mum and a dad. It can be hard, at times, but when your daughter smiles at you, not at first of course, but in time, she will recognize you as being the special people in her life. But when she really smiles, it can give you… oh the most _amazing_ feeling."

Martin was tidying up the fluid on the floor, and then he looked at Louisa, with her dress all muddy and rumpled, hair and wedding veil askew, a smudge of dirt across her lovely cheek and then his breath caught in his throat. She still cradled the new mother between her long legs, bracing her. Special – special _people_ – Louisa had said. The special people, the ones _he_ really cared about, he could count on one hand. There was Louisa, of course, plus James Henry, Aunt Ruth, and of course his late Aunt Joan – those were the ones he cared for. He'd grudgingly add Chris Parsons to the list as well. Five, there a handful.

Louisa felt herself wondering what Martin was thinking, for his face took on that far away, neck bent down, stare-off-to-the-side expression.

Martin bent his neck to look up at Louisa, over the heads of Billy and Angela who were snogging, across the form of their child. He took a small breath and nodded at his wife. It wasn't just his family that he was concerned about, he realized. There was Morwenna, Al, and even Bert and Penhale. And yes, even Mrs. Tishell in some odd way as well as every time-waster and lay about in the village. For he would always be concerned about their state of health.

Louisa smiled at her husband, all grubby and dirty as he was, after a tramp in the forest, through a bog, and everything else. It had been a terrible experience, but at least they had ended up here to help Angela at exactly the right time. So that was okay, despite the disappointment of a non-honeymoon honeymoon. Oh well, she thought, there's always tomorrow.

Martin opened his mouth. "Special people are _anyone_ you ever cared about, or for."

Louisa's smile grew wider for her heart filled with pride for him. He was a wonderful man in many respects; and in others – well, some edges were rougher than others. She mouthed the words 'I love you' to him.

Martin nodded back to her. "Yes," he whispered. Right then he wanted to hug Louisa tightly and kiss her mouth, but the young Angela, her child, and her man were in the way.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Transport

They had moved Angela up to the bed, where Louisa helped get her positioned to hold the baby. Then Louisa passed on her personal knowledge of getting the baby to try to nurse. When the baby latched on, Angela winced.

"It's fine, all normal," Louisa told her.

"Does it, _always_ feel like this?" Angela wined.

Louisa told her, "It gets better; easier. Just try to relax."

Martin had gone to wash up, then returned to inspect mother and child. "Good. Nursing stimulates contractions, which will help the uterus…" his voice trailed off when Louisa gave him a look of disapproval. "Ahem, yes. As baby starts to get more comfortable, and you as well, and as you gain experience - with nursing your child."

After a few minutes the baby's hold loosened and she fell asleep. Martin gently laid a finger on the baby's neck above the clavicle. He felt a good and steady heartbeat. "She's doing well." He turned his gaze on the new mother. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Angela was snuggling with her daughter, when she finally asked Billy what she ought to have asked before. "Where's Gran?"

Billy's was perched on the bed and his face froze.

"And what are… I mean how… did you get here?" she asked him.

Billy took a slow breath. "I wrote to Gran, tellin' her I was getting' leave. So she came into town to meet me at Bodmin Station. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Angela smiled. "Great that you're here and all… but Gran?"

"Yeah, about that, uhm, her. She's okay I think, but…" he took a shuddering breath, and that caught both Martin's and Louisa's attention.

"Something's amiss, is it?" Louisa asked.

Billy sighed. "Yeah. So she met me at the Station, but when we was walkin' to the car park, she took a funny turn; got sorta pale like. Started sweatin' and said her back was achin'."

Martin cleared his throat. "Just how old is this woman?"

"Gran is what, oh, 60 last birthday?" Angela answered. "She alright?"

Billy shook his head side-to-side. "Truro Hospital.; took her there. She was in E&R when I left her. They said she might have had a heart thing."

"A _heart thing_?" Martin blurted out. "What in Heaven's name does _that_ mean?"

Billy squirmed. "I dunnoh. They said a whole buncha stuff; most I didn't catch. But they hooked her up with a tube in her arm, and then had patches on her chest - wires and stuff - to a machine. Blinkin' lights and all."

Martin hoped that this young man was well managed in the Royal Navy for he was either not very bright, was poorly educated, or both. "That would be an intravenous line to administer medicine and an electrocardiogram to monitor heart action."

"And they had this thing clipped on her finger and a band around her arm, as well."

"To measure the oxygen level in her blood and to measure blood pressure," Martin added.

Angela touched Billy's hand to get his attention, for he had been staring at the Doctor. "But you're here."

He nodded. "Yer Gran told me to come here to get you. I'd no idea… that…" he gulped, "you'd be havin' the baby."

Angela nodded. "Well I did - _we_ did." She looked at Martin and Louisa. "Could we go there? See her?"

Martin coughed. "Has you grandmother been generally healthy? Fit?"

Angela answered. "Oh she's a skinny little thing. A stiff breeze would blow her away." Her voice grew grave. "We should go there; to hospital."

Billy waved a hand to point over his shoulder. "I got her van out there. It's how I drove here."

Martin took Angela's pulse, and it was fine. "How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Tired, but worried about my Gran."

Louisa took Martin's arm and pulled him aside. "A word?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is it safe to move her?"

Martin sighed. "I'll inspect the vehicle. Best if we could lay her down." He looked over at Billy. "I'd like to inspect this vehicle."

The boy stood up. "Angela, me and the Doc will just go and set things up in the back of the van. That alright?"

"Yeah," Angela told him. "Don't be long."

Billy pulled a bunch of car keys from his pocket and hefted them. "Come on then, Doc."

"It's _Dr_. Ellingham," Martin bristled as he followed the boy out of the house. The temperature had fallen and with the fog thicker it was a penetrating damp that sucked the heat right through his clothes.

"Yeah, Sure. Here's the van. Old but serviceable," the boy pointed.

Martin groaned inside when he saw the decrepit nature of the vehicle. "It's… old." It was an ancient two-tone Volkswagen wagon with the windows crusted with grime and most of the exterior panels spotted with rust. One of the side windows was gone, the opening filled with a piece of ply held in the opening with gaffer's tape.

"Here it is," Billy replied. "Doesn't look like much, but it runs."

More rust than metal, Martin observed. He pulled on the rear door handle, which opened with a creak on rusty hinges, and found it surprisingly well kept inside. It smelled musty but the floor was relatively clean other than some stray clods of earth. "Sweep this out."

Billy ducked back into the house and came out with a broom. "You can see the back bench is gone. How we gonna fit Angela and the baby in here?"

Martin opened the side door, and located the lever which let him unlatch the seat supports from the floorboard. "Help me with this. Quickly now!"

Billy dropped the broom and crawled inside. "What?"

"Let's shift this bench away, shall we?" The two of them carried the bench to the porch where Martin found an old tarp there which he draped over the seat. "It might rain."

In some ways the Doc reminded him of his Petty Officer, the chief of his section. Always ready with an order – and right sharp of tongue as well. "We can't very well lay her on the floorboards, now can we?"

"Mattress off the bed."

Billy shook his head. "Really?"

"Yes. Is there fuel in this thing?"

"Enough to get into Truro."

Martin checked his watch. It was nearly half-one. "How far?"

"Oh, about 40 minutes, I guess."

Martin mentally reviewed the night's events and what he may need on the way. "Go inside and set a kettle boiling. I want hot water bottles, if there are any."

"I'll go look."

"Then you can helpme carry out the mattresses as well as blankets. Oh, and some sofa cushions for added padding."

"Are we gonna move the whole bloody house?" Billy muttered.

Martin was poking at a tire with the toe of his shoe. It looked semi dry-rotted, but it would have to do. "Shift it, Billy."

"Aye, aye," the boy responded then he fled into the house before he got another order to fulfill.

Suddenly Louisa was looking out the front door. "That the van? Will it work?"

"It will have to," Martin said to her. "Sorry about all this…" He waved his hands about.

Louisa smiled at him; not exactly a happy smile but one of devotion. "It's fine, Martin – it's fine."

"Let's hope so," Martin said to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Arrangements

Louisa and Angela sat in the kitchen and watched as the two men manhandled the mattress down the narrow corridor, through the kitchen and towards the front door. Each woman was amused as each of their men pushed, pulled, and cursed in obviously different directions.

"No, NO!" Martin bellowed. "Not that way!"

Billy dropped his end of the mattress; he was leading, and with hands on hips gave Martin as good as he gave. "You… you… trumped up, suit-wearin' fancy-pants, _tosser_! And how many mattresses have you shifted in your day! Not bloody many seems to me!"

Martin gritted his teeth. Stupid fool, he thought and was about to say so when he spied his bride giving him _the look._ "Ahm, so what would you suggest? The mattress is so rump-sprung it won't hold its shape as we try to go around this corner."

Billy shoved the mattress aside so he could get back into the house. "There!" he yelled, as he shoved a couch out of the way. "Now, DOC, pick up your end and unbend it. Got enough room _now_?"

Martin sheepishly picked up his end and taking three steps to the side had the mattress straightened out. "Yes," he said softly.

Louisa looked down at Angela who was sitting on a kitchen chair. "Now Angela, you just hold the baby, while I see if I can't help _these_ two."

Martin heard her. "No, I think we have it… Right. Billy if you would pick up your end?"

Billy shook his head. "Shore nuff, Guv."

"Doctor," Martin corrected him.

Louisa went back into the bedroom, and taking up blankets and pillows returned to the kitchen. She heard huffing and puffing outside, muttered oaths, and swearing. She looked out to inspect Martin and Billy. Now it looked like they had the padding safely in the van. She stepped outside and the chill fog cut like a knife. "Freezing out here," she said as shivering set in. She saw that Martin now had more mud on shoes and trouser knees, and Billy looked like he'd fallen backwards for he was mud spattered as well.

"Now, you boys about ready?" she asked with a slight tone of mockery.

Billy bit back a curse. "Yes, mum. Think so."

Martin saw what Louisa was holding. "Oh, good. We'd best wrap the um, girl and the baby up well." He took the blankets from her and spread them out on the mattress, which now filled the floor of the van.

Billy nodded. "Aye cuz the heater doesn't do much; whole water-system probably needs a good flush."

"Are you an auto mechanic?" Louisa asked him.

"Not zackly," Billy told her. "I can turn my hand to most anything. But in the RN I hope to get a decent rating, make some actual pay, to provide for my family."

"That's fine," Louisa said encouragingly. "And unless you plan on staying in the Navy, you'll need skills which are transferable to the outside; when you demob."

"I bin trying to study up for electrical artificer tests."

"Electrician. Sounds very useful."

Martin shook his head. "Louisa, I don't think this is either the _time_ or _place_ for a _career counselling session_ , do you?" he said testily.

"I was only being nice," she hissed at him. "Don't be so _skeptic_."

Martin looked down at the mud on his trousers, scuffs on his shoes, and felt the various aches, pains, and scrapes of the entire misadventure. "None of this has been any…"

"Yes, picnic, I know," she replied. She hugged her husband of just a few hours. "Sorry I snapped."

Martin shrugged. "Yes."

"At least you didn't have to wade a stream; nothing like that," she told him.

"Perish the thought." He looked hard at her. "I AM sorry… for all this."

She shrugged and kissed his cheek. "Now, ready to play chauffeur, or maybe ambulance driver?"

He turned to speak to Billy. "Are your driving skills adequate? Do you have any penalty points, fines, or outright driving bans on your record?"

The boy shook his head. "No."

"Good," Martin said. "I ought to ride in the back with the… girl."

" _Angela_ ," prodded Louisa.

"Right, Angela," replied Martin. He turned his attention back to Louisa. "There is another blanket inside?"

Louisa nodded. "It's wrapped around the new mother."

Martin took a deep breath. "And you can ride next to this teenager, perhaps, and keep him company, since he's driving."

She nodded. "I'll get the torch, just in case."

Martin sighed thinking that arrangements were as good as they might be. "You never know." He turned on his heel, entered the house, and stared at Angela. She was holding her daughter with a beatific smile.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Most beautiful baby ever," Angela said dreamily.

Progesterone and oxytocin, thought Martin, for birth hormones made bonding between mother and infant effective. Martin tucked the blanket more fully around the girl.

Louisa walked in, so Martin lifted the baby away and handed the infant to Louisa, despite a squawk of protest from the mother. Then he bent over, put one arm under the girl's knees, the other around her shoulders and lifted her effortlessly. He carried her outside, passing Louisa without a glance.

Seeing the way that Martin carried the girl gave Louisa a momentary pang. Steady Louisa, she reminded herself. He _is_ _your_ husband - at last. She looked down at the babe in her arms. Just like James Henry at birth; so tiny and compact. She let out a satisfied sigh, interrupted by a call from Martin.

"LOUISA! Come on!" Martin called.

Louisa snagged the torch where'd she'd left it on a table by the door, looked around the little room, then switched off the lights, and stepped out into the mist, pulling the door shut behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Travelling

At last they were all packed into the van and arranged to Martin's satisfaction. Billy was at the wheel, Louisa sat at his side, Angela and baby Linda were wrapped up, padded and lying on the mattress, with Martin crouched on the mattress by their side – just in case.

"Comfy back there?" Louisa asked over the noise of the motor, for the van had a blown muffler.

"What?" Martin yelled back.

"Are. You. COMFY?" she said with emphasis.

"Just lovely," Angela answered. "Linda is asleep, I think."

Louisa glanced back and saw Martin's head bob up. she saw him scoot closer to the baby to touch her.

"Yes, fine; she's fine," he said.

Then he sighed, so, Louisa reached out to touch his shoulder to reassure him.

His hand rose to hold hers briefly. "We're fine," he said.

But he wasn't fine. He was less than chuffed - downright gloomy in fact. He searched for the proper word – _miserable_. Miserable fit the bill. "Maybe we should have had the _big_ wedding, that you tease me about," he directed at Louisa.

"What?" Louisa's head jerked upright. Did she just hear what she thought she heard?

He went on, muttering, "And a trip to some tropical… isle or other – an _actual_ honeymoon." His nose curled as he looked around the battered interior. "And not _here_."

Louisa's hand pressed itself against the back of his neck. This bloody seat's in the way, she thought to herself, for she wanted to press herself against him. Closer than close she wanted to get to her husband. Not been a very fun night.

Martin moved his neck a slightly to press his ear against her arm, while he examined the baby. "The baby is sleeping."

Angela yawned at him. "Been a helluva of a honeymoon for you, ain't it?"

Billy coughed. "Hang tight back there. The road's torn up ahead."

His warning was followed by lurches, bangs, bumps, and jumps.

"Slow down, you idiot!" Martin yelled.

Billy automatically slowed the vehicle. "Sorry. I'll drive slower."

Louisa told him, "Just over the rough parts? Alright?"

Billy smiled at her. "A bit excited, I am."

"It's been a big day," she told him. Then she looked back at her husband, rumpled, dirty, and smudged as he was. "A very big day."

Martin caught her eye and almost smiled at her. I love you Louisa, he thought – I love you so much.

After a half-hour they finally reached the main road and could put on some decent speed.

Louisa saw Billy relax when the got to the good road surface. "You alright?"

"Yeah. It's only… well, back there," he threw a thumb over his shoulder, "one of the neighbors. Bit doolaly."

"Well, they are a lot of unusual folks hereabouts."

The boy cast a sly look at her from the corner of his eye. "No," he told her. "Bellamy, I think that's his name. Real lucky you didn't run into him on your tramp through the forest."

I knew it, Louisa though. It _is_ a forest. "So, this person – Bellamy…"

"Shoots foxes, and people," Billy said. His finger went to his temple and twirled. "Barmy as all get out."

"Ah, well, good then that we came across Angela instead."

The boy laughed. "I'm thinkin' she's lucky that you came across her – all alone like that." He turned his head to catch her eye. "And I didn't tell you thank you."

Louisa smiled and patted his elbow. "Glad we could help."

"How far to Truro Hospital?" Martin asked them. "Hope it's not that far."

"That sign back there said 20 miles to city center," Billy replied.

"Just… ahem… drive smoothly," Martin responded. "No undue jostling." He looked down to see Angela's head slumping. She's exhausted, he realized. He carefully took the sleeping child from her, braced himself against the cold sheet metal of the inner tyre wing, and cuddled the baby to keep it warm.

Tiny eyelids opened, and two eyes peeped up at him from the folds of the towels he'd swaddled her in before they left the house. "There, there," he told Linda, rocking her gently. He knew a lot more about babies than he did when James Henry was born. He now knew things he'd never learn from a book; like how it felt to see your child born, to hear it start to babble, see it begin to crawl, feed itself, and then at last to walk.

Louisa saw the way that Martin was confidently holding the baby. "You make a fine father," she whispered to him.

"Not that difficult," he told her. "Just takes a bit of practice."

Louisa's heart lurched a little. And perhaps we can get a little more practice at it? One child was fine, but might two be better to have?

Seeing the thoughtful look on his wife's face, Martin asked her "What?"

Louisa sighed. "Oh nothing."

"Nearly there, folks," Billy announced. "Hospital's just past this roundabout."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - A&E

"Look!" Martin bellowed, "You can process the paper work _later_!"

The Truro Hospital A&E desk clerk looked up at this dirty man with some alarm. He looked like he'd been sleeping rough, along with the woman in the wedding gown. Then she thought this must be some sort of prank, or maybe one of those off beat telly shows. Then the man gave his name. Oh no. Not him! "Uhm, Mr. Ell…ing…ham," she stammered - for she'd heard of this particular GP, and how he could tear a strip off hospital staff, "First, I must get the patient's name."

"Er, well, her name is…" Martin was trying to add.

"Angela," prompted Billy, "Campell, and soon to be Cable, I'm thinkin'."

Angela brightened. "Yes, Billy."

"Yes, what?" Billy said to her.

"If yer asking me to marry then, yes. I said yes!" the girl shouted.

Billy's face cracked into a wide grin. "Yes, I am asking."

Angela motioned to him. "Ask me properly."

The clerk watched open-mouth as the dirty young man got down on one knee before the girl in the wheelchair.

Billy cleared his throat. "Angela Campbell, will be my wife for ever and ever and be the mother of our children, including _this_ one?"

Angela stroked Billy's hair. "Oh my yes."

The clerk was frozen at the bizarre scene. Who were these people? "This is a telly show, must be," she muttered.

Her frozen wonderment was interrupted by the older woman in the muddy and bloody wedding dress, who tapped on the counter top. "No, this IS reality, as hard as it is to believe." The woman's voice shifted a notch into a tone of command, and for some reason she felt like she was in third form, and the teacher was giving her a command. "Now, Miss Angela Campbell has just given birth to her baby."

"Full-term, apparently," added the man in the muddy gray suit.

"She needs to be examined, if not admitted," the woman went on. "So, will you get a move on, or shall we find _someone_ else in this hospital that seems to _actually_ care about _patient_ needs?" Louisa had unconsciously adopted a manner she'd heard Martin use far too many times.

The clerk gulped. She took a good look at the wedding-dress woman. She knew that voice. "Miss Glasson? Oh my God. It is, isn't it?"

Louisa brushed a tangled strand of hair from her face. "It is… Mrs. Ellingham, now. I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. Do I know you?"

The clerk gulped. "I'm… Theresa Johns. Was Theresa Porthcut, afor I got married."

Louisa's teacher memory kicked in. "Oh yes, _Theresa_! I taught you for two years. Then you moved away. How are you, and your parents?"

The clerk nodded. "Fine. Fine. Mum's getting on. Dad's a long-haul lorry driver now. I been married now for two years."

Martin butted in, saying, "If you two… ahem… can _stop_ the reunion chatter… for _thirty_ seconds?" He shot his cuffs, and straightened his tie.

"Sorry, Martin," Louisa told him.

Theresa, the desk clerk, scooped up a handset. "Frank?" she said brightly. "Hey! Can you get yourself out here? We have a new mum. And her baby. Needs a workup. Move it, please? Good. Ta!" She hung up the telephone. "An orderly will be here soon."

Martin slowly let air out of his nose.

"It's fine, Martin," Louisa said.

"And this is your husband?" Theresa asked Louisa.

Louisa took his arm possessively and then ducked her head shyly. "It is. Martin Ellingham."

Theresa's eyes went wide. "Miss Glasson, you… you married _him_?" There were stories, and she'd heard most of them - and none were at all complimentary. The man was a complete tosser with his manners, but he was some sort of miracle worker when it came to medicine. "You married Dr. Ellingham?"

Louisa stretched up and kissed Martin's cheek to add to what was no doubt any number of stories about her husband. "I did."

Martin almost recoiled, but restrained himself. He stood a little straighter.

"So why are you wearing wedding dress?" Theresa asked.

Louisa smiled. "Our wedding day was yesterday and…"

"We had a bit of a deviation at our…" Martin added, "at our accommodations."

Theresa looked from the former Miss Glasson and her new hubby, to where the young fella was snogging with the girl in the wheelchair. "And Angela was a pregnant bridesmaid?"

"No," snapped Martin. "Now where is that orderly?"

Further conversation was interrupted by the clattering arrival of two men with a gurney. "Wots all this then?" Frank sniffed.

The second man had a stethoscope slung around his neck. "Oh, Mr. Ellingham," he said slowly. "I, well, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"Patient," Martin snapped and immediately went into full MD mode. "Teenage primagravida - full term. Natural delivery, no anesthesia of any sort. Alert and aware. Seems not to be in much pain. The infant has good Apgars. Cord is clamped with twine…"

Louisa smiled at Theresa, whose mouth had taken on that open-mouthed astonished look once more. "And my husband's a very good doctor," she told her.


End file.
